


encounter

by tangentiallly



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Gen, M/M, Post-Break Up, but like. very very post? years after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18426258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: Bertrand has a chat with an ex.





	encounter

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE  
> please don't copy this story to another site

Bertrand was surveying Dewey’s shelves of books, reading the titles of the ones on the third row, when someone dropped down behind him from the ceiling (he couldn’t see, but he guessed that a rope was used), and then the said person pressed something that felt suspiciously like a knife onto his right shoulder.

“I would advise you not to move,” came a cheerfully bright voice. “There is, as you probably already suspected, a knife pressing onto your right shoulder.”

Bertrand didn’t need to turn around to know who just dropped down from the ceiling. He would recognize this man anywhere, even just by his voice that sounded almost exactly like his brothers, but not quite the same. Never quite.

Never quite, though the difference was something Bertrand didn’t know how to express into words. He could just _feel_ it.

“May I inquire if Dewey would still be meeting me and is just running late, or is he not coming?” He asked amicably.

“Oh, he’s just running late,” Ernest said offhandedly. “He got distracted with something.”

“I see,” Bertrand remarked.

“You know, I think you’ve been getting careless,” Ernest said conversationally. “I was wondering if I’ll be able to sneak up on you like this, you used to be more alert.”

“Well, you know how it is, island vacation and all that,” Bertrand said, almost about to shrug but remembering that there was a knife pressed to his shoulder. “Makes one careless. Haven’t quite turn the vacational mode off yet.”

“Not really,” Ernest said wistfully. “I mean, I don’t really know how that is. I’ve been so busy with work that I hardly ever have a vacation these days. All I do is run errands for hotel customers who are on _their_ vacations.”

“Maybe you should take a week off or two,” Bertrand suggested. “I know an island.” He knew Ernest would probably never do that, though. Ernest and Frank, they were both here to keep some invisible balance that no one dared to ruin. A Mexican standoff of some sorts.

“Maybe,” Ernest said, noncommittal. He paused for a moment, then continued, “As much as we’re both excellent at making small talk, I’m afraid I do have to get on with the business, because Dewey might show up soon. And I have to leave before that, you understand.”

“Of course, I totally understand,” Bertrand assured him. “Business is important, after all.”

Ernest felt his lips pulled upwards slightly at Bertrand’s words.  He missed this, he missed how the two of them used to do this all the time, having polite and cordial conversation while pretending that nothing dark and sinister was going on, he missed how they would sneak hidden meanings into every harmless sentence and while trying to gauge each other’s thoughts. He missed this dance.  He missed them.

And this - this made him feel familiar and fond.

But he did, as he’d just pointed out, have to get on with business.

“You see, there’s this task I’ve been given, to find out where exactly is the fortune you guys have stolen is hidden, and also how to obtain it,” Ernest said, keeping his tone conversational. “I’ve been instructed to interrogate you.”

“Sounds like a tedious task,” Bertrand commented, his voice sympathetic. “No wonder you have to be an workaholic and stay at the hotel all the time.”

This was the most fun he’d had in weeks, Ernest realized. This felt completely different from dealing with all the demanding hotel customers or Frank. This was interesting and fun and he really, really missed having fun. Fun felt like a lifetime ago when things had been different, fun felt like something that long disappeared, up until this moment.

“No rest for the wicked, as they say,” Ernest said lightly. “Certain people were very angry that your side getting to Olaf’s fortune faster than they did after his parents death, and well, they want it, to put it simply. I don’t know why they were so shocked at your side getting to it faster, though, seeing as you planned the death and knew when it would happen.”

Ernest could feel Bertrand’s shoulders tensed just the tiniest amount at that, but when he spoke, his voice was still pleasant as if Ernest’s words didn’t bother him at the slightest. “Perhaps, due to the slowness of most operations, a fact caused by overly complicated communication methods, they did not anticipate the efficiency,” Bertrand suggested, as if they were discussing a math problem or something.

“That’s certainly a reasonable explanation,” Ernest agreed cordially. “Anyway, I hope you’re not going to be too surprised by this - but I did promise them to interrogate you on the whereabouts of that fortune, a promise I intend to keep. And I did promise them a knife would be involved, a promise I also intend to keep.”

“Oh,” Bertrand replied, in a mock surprised tone. “Did not see that one coming, actually.”

Ernest almost rolled his eyes and chuckled, but since Bertrand could actually hear him, he opted for only rolling his eyes only. Bertrand was still every bit as Ernest remembered him to be, and it felt - surprisingly fun, even despite the position they were in right now. Or perhaps it’s _because_ of the position they were in. His right hand remained steady, at the level of Bertrand’s shoulders, though he pressed down just a bit, applying some pressure.

“I also promised to leave a mark,” he added casually, as if an afterthought.

He could feel Bertrand’s shoulders tense again, this time a little more visible than the last, though Ernest supposed it wouldn’t look visible at all to an untrained eye, or to someone who didn’t know Bertrand as well as him.

“Let me guess,” Bertrand asked lightly, and Ernest couldn’t hear the tension in his voice at all. “A promise you also intend to keep?”

“Well,” Ernest paused, pretending to ponder over the question. _I would never hurt you,_ he thought, _not that I could just say that, obviously._ “Hypothetical question, would you mind terribly if I kiss your neck?”

“Well,” Bertrand paused, considering. “Some. Which is not to say I don’t think you’re a good kisser, of course, I’ve had first hand experience telling me you’re a rather good one -” Ernest felt his lips pulling upwards again at the words, it was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t help it, and he was glad Bertrand couldn’t see his face “ - but it would be rather inconveniencing for me if you were to leave a mark, you understand. Beatrice is rather observant. ”

“In this case,” Ernest said slowly. “I suppose that’s a promise I do _not_ intend to keep.” It was a pity that he didn’t get to kiss Bertrand - not that Ernest wanted to get back together or anything but damn, they used to have some great kisses together, he was just reminiscing it from a purely physical standpoint - but well, he supposed certain things might be better left in the past, anyway.

“That is very considerate of you,” Bertrand said, sounding almost sincere. Maybe he was, Ernest could never be sure sometimes. Bertrand was always a better actor than most people considered him to be. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Ernest said generously. “I suppose it’s rather a fortunate thing that I already know where it is and have obtained some crucial information about bank safe combinations, amongst other things.”

He could see Bertrand was surprised by this, and smiled privately to himself. It was good to know he could still surprise Bertrand Baudelaire sometimes. It felt like an achievement. He suspected Bertrand was right now trying determine whether he was bluffing about knowing all the information or not.

“If that is true, I could only assume you haven’t told them yet, otherwise they wouldn’t have sent you on this mission,” Bertrand said logically.

Ernest closed his eyes for a brief moment. Oh, how he missed this logical man. He opened his eyes again. “Very observant,” he complimented, and he meant it. He used to love this about Bertrand, and damn, maybe he still loved it now. _I’m telling you so you would know that I know and I’m about to report it up and, well, do with this information however you will_ , he thought, but didn’t say that. “I suppose you could say that I want to chance to flaunt this knowledge in your - and your associates’ - face. I do have the occasional bad habit of gloating. You would remember I use to gloat to Kit Snicket about having a much better taste in men than her.” He had the urge to press a quick kiss to the back of Bertrand’s neck to follow up with the sentence, but ultimately resisted it.

“I always felt that was rather unnecessary,” Bertrand said, mildly disapproving. A mock admonishment. “Seeing as it’s not a particular high bar to surpass.”

Ernest couldn’t stop himself, he did laugh out loud this time. “I suppose you are right,” he conceded.

“I know I am,” Bertrand said, and Ernest could hear the grin in his voice this time, too.

Wow, he really, really missed this.

“And also, I couldn’t have them knowing I’ve already found out but kept the secret to myself, so this little encounter of ours had to happen to explain it,” Ernest added. Obviously, he could’ve pretended to have already interrogated Bertrand even when he didn’t, it wasn’t like his bosses would know. But he missed Bertrand and he didn’t want to just catch glimpses of Bertrand when he came to visit Dewey, he wanted to actually talk to him.

“That makes sense,” Bertrand said agreeably, even though Ernest was pretty sure Bertrand must’ve thought of what he was just thinking, that Ernest didn’t have to actually talk to him and ask him to pretend that he did.

 _He hasn’t changed a bit_ , Ernest thought, irreversibly fond, overwhelmingly nostalgic. It’s ridiculous, maybe, but that’s just life, perhaps.

“Seeing as Dewey might show up anytime now, it’s time for me to take my leave,” he announced, then added, in a deliberately falsely sweet tone. “It’s been really nice seeing you.” He meant that. Sometimes the best lies weren’t half truths, they’re completely true but you say it in a way that made people feel like you’re lying.

“It’s been really nice seeing you too,” Bertrand said, sounding drily sarcastic this time. In Ernest’s mind, there were three possible interpretations to that. One, he was actually being sarcastic and did not actually enjoy seeing Ernest at all. Two, he actually meant that, but hid that under a sarcastic tone just like Ernest did under the falsely sweet one. Three, he used that because he realized Ernest was pretending to lie about it while saying very truthful words, and this was his way of telling Ernest that he’d spotted the trick.

Ernest couldn’t exactly be sure of which. Maybe he would’ve been sure a couple of years ago, but as much as he liked to pretend nothing had changed between them, a lot of things, admittedly, had.  He raised his left hand up and put in on Bertrand’s left shoulder, and squeezed it, “Well, take care, then. Oh, and do yourself and me, but particularly Dewey, a favor - keep still until you hear me leave the room and close the door, will you? I wouldn’t want to have to use this knife at all.”

“Sure,” Bertrand said easily. “For Dewey.” He paused and then added. “And you, of course.”  Ernest rolled his eyes at that, feeling his smile almost emerging again.

“Good,” Ernest said, wondering if Bertrand could hear the almost laughter in his voice. He suspected he could.  He slowly drew both of his arms back, and started backing towards the door.  True to his word, Bertrand kept still and did not turn around.

Ernest’s hand found the door knob while still keeping his gaze on Bertrand, and skillfully opened the door, he backed out of the room, closed the door, and then stuffed the mirror in his right hand back into his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr](https://beatricebidelaire.tumblr.com)


End file.
